


just like a folk song

by sibylvane



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Canon Compliant, Childhood Friends, First War with Voldemort, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), but it's 6+1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 21:08:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30078369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sibylvane/pseuds/sibylvane
Summary: Our love will be passed on.Marlene and Dorcas, moments between 1967 and 1981.
Relationships: Marlene McKinnon & Dorcas Meadowes
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	just like a folk song

  1. _June 1967._



There’s a girl crying on a swing. 

Marlene is well aware of this because she is stuck in the tree it’s attached to and she’s got nothing better to do than to watch. The girl has soft brown skin and a pretty yellow dress, much prettier than Marlene's overall and expensive but dirty boots.

Marlene supposes this is the girl’s garden. She didn’t really keep track of where she flew, you see. Everything is stupid Rory’s fault, anyway. Stupid Rory who said she was a scaredy-cat for not daring to play Quidditch with him. It's not Marlene's fault that heights are scary! She had only wanted to prove him wrong - just because he is starting Hogwarts this year doesn’t mean he’s right about everything! He’ll probably end up in Slytherin for being stupid, Marlene decides, angrily kicking her legs in the air. 

The girl below her keeps crying, big, ugly tears rolling down her cheeks. Marlene wonders why - _she_ would never cry like that because she is almost eight years old and she’s already decided that she’s going to get sorted into Gryffindor so fast that the hat doesn’t know what hit it.

“Excuse me,” Marlene starts, because Marigold always tells her to be polite.

The girl yelps and falls off the swing. Marlene winces.

“What are you doing in my tree?” the girl asks, affronted. The tears in her eyes seem to be forgotten. Marlene tells herself that she is unfazed, because she is brave like her sister and dad.

"I'm stuck, obviously. Why are you crying?" Marlene has never been praised for her tact.

The girl is still on the ground, and Marlene notices that she's got grass stains on her tights. The girl narrows her eyes. They're a pretty brown. "You're one of the McKinnon children, aren't you?"

"Yep", Marlene says, automatically puffing out her chest. She's used to having to prove that she's just as remarkable as her siblings, that she's good enough for the McKinnon name. "I'm Marlene." Then, because she feels like it's important, she adds, "I'm almost eight. Who are you?"

"I'm Dorcas Meadowes and i'm turning seven next month," the girl says politely, tension easing in her small frame when she realizes that Marlene isn't going to do something weird, like breathing fire and light up her house. She stands up and wipes the dirt off her dress. "My mum says i shouldn't talk to you." A pause. Marlene's stomach clenches weirdly and she feels queasy all of a sudden. _Odd unnerving peculiar._ Dorcas Meadowes is quiet for a moment, before she says, "Do you need help getting down?"

Marlene swallows her pride and nods. Dorcas Meadowes raises both of her tiny arms towards Marlene, three metres above her. Squeezing her eyes shut, Marlene jumps. She feels the rush of air around her as she falls, but then she gently touches the ground and there’s soft grass under her feet and a small, warm hand in hers.

She opens her eyes slowly, one at a time, and meets Dorcas Meadowes’ soft smile and kind eyes. She is pretty sure there’s specks of gold in them, kind of like the stars. Marlene can’t help but to smile back, all teeth and childish relief. They stay like that for a moment, then:

“How did you get stuck in a _tree,”_ Dorcas meadowes blurts, immediately looking like she regrets it. 

Marlene considers telling a lie, to prove that she’s brave, not _odd unnerving_ _peculiar_. But Dorcas Meadowes, almost seven years old with still wet cheeks, has the kind of eyes that makes Marlene feel guilty about even considering lying. More so, Marlene has a feeling in her chest that Dorcas is _safe._

“It wasn't all my fault,” Marlene begins stubbornly, trying to not allow her voice to wobble. “I just wanted to show that i am just as good at flying as Rory, even though Mum won’t let me use a broom because i keep falling off and getting bruises. I told Rory i can do everything he can _without_ a broom and I could, because I actually floated! But then I got stuck in a tree and he forgot about me."

"I have a big brother too," Dorcas Meadowes offers quietly. Marlene doesn't say _I know_ , because that is not polite, but she remembers overhearing Mum and Dad talking about the Meadowes boy who is a squib and isn't that unfortunate?

Instead, she just says, "They're the worst, right?"

Dorcas Meadowes grabs her hand with all the seriousness a six-year old can possess and smiles. "I guess mum was wrong. You're alright, McKinnon."

And just like that, they're friends. 

  
  
  
  


————

  
  


  1. _September 1971._



Donna is standing by Marlene's parents, waving as though her life depends on it. It’ll be a few years until she can come on the train, and Marlene is secretly a tiny bit envious. She misses the cobblestoned streets and widespread fields back home already. She misses her room, too, even though it’s tiny and on the top floor. Still, Hogwarts is everything she’s ever dreamed of. 

Marlene sticks her head out the window just as the train starts to move, and her father yells at her to get her head inside the carriage. She sticks out her tongue at him but does as he says, waving back with the same passion as her little sister.

She hasn't seen Rory or Lesley since they got to the platform - both of them had immediately rushed off to greet their friends, who are apparently far too cool for Marlene to hang out with. Marigold, however, had ruffled Marlene's hair before she had left to sit with her friends in the prefects' carriage. Marlene hadn't told her, but having her oldest sister here is nice. It's Marigold's last year, too, so it's not like she has any reason to keep an eye on Marlene, an itty bitty first year. 

There's a knock behind her and Marlene quickly closes the window. The door slides open to reveal Dorcas, flushed and smiling, carrying her trunk and a cage with a very fluffy cat in it. 

The cat stares at her. Marlene stares back. 

Dorcas clears her throat.

“His name is bartholomew,” she says. “Dad bought him for my birthday when we went to get school supplies.” 

Dorcas' parents hadn't wanted them to go to Diagon Alley together this year either, no matter how much both Dorcas and Marlene had begged. Marlene doesn't understand why Dory’s parents think she’s such a bad influence on their daughter. It’s silly, really, but it kind of hurts anyway.

( One time, Marlene had actually worked up enough courage to knock on the Meadowes family's front door. She hadn’t done it again.

Instead, she’d resorted to using her night light to get Dorcas’ attention through her window before bed - Dorcas had tried to teach her some kind of muggle code so they could communicate using the lights, but Marlene didn’t understand why they couldn’t just send each other letters. 

Anyway - they always wave goodnight to each other across the housetops. Marlene isn’t sure she’ll be able to sleep without their little ritual, now. 

Plus, they have dozens of secret places in Upper Flagley where they meet - by the old oak tree in the forest, in the small alleyway behind the grocery store, on the playground of the local muggle school- )

“Shouldn’t you give him a nickname?” Marlene frowns as Dorcas sits down opposite her. “Bartholomew is a human name. It makes him sound like an old, grumpy man.”

Dorcas looks thoughtful. “I don’t know. You’re the one whose brother is named _Rory._ That sounds like a dog’s name, to me.”

“I still think you should give him a nickname. Bartholomew is so _long_.”

Dorcas looks thoughtful. “What about Barty?”

Marlene grimaces. “Ew, my dad has a friend called that. He _is_ an old, grumpy man.”

Dorcas laugh could light up all of Diagon Alley. “What about Barty Mew Mew, then”, she says. “It’s a pun _and_ it doesn’t sound like a ministry official.”

Marlene supposes that’s as good as it will get.

  
  


They spend the rest of the train ride like this: bickering, sharing candy. From the moment they reach Hogsmeade, however, everything seems to pass in one big blur : 

They end up in the same boat as James Potter, who tries to seem cooler than everyone else even though Marlene’s beat him at Quidditch several times despite being scared of heights. 

The Great Hall is amazing - neither Marlene nor Dorcas say anything as they walk between the tables towards the Sorting Hat. 

A sudden fear hits her - what if they aren't sorted into the same house? Will Dorcas hate her if they are divided? What if Dorcas finds other, better friends who aren’t odd or unnerving or peculiar-

Marigold and Rory cheer as Marlene is sorted into Gryffindor. Lesley makes a rude grimace when they get eye contact over the tables, but she looks happy too. 

Dorcas gets sorted right after her- Marlene’s heart pounds in her chest, but Dorcas looks even more nervous than Marlene feels.

The hat yells out _Gryffindor_ after what feels like an eternity but can’t have been more than a few seconds. Marlene is impossibly relieved - she doesn’t believe in God, but she’s heard the old muggle ladies in Upper Flagley talk about him, so she supposes it won’t hurt to thank him.

Afterwards, Marlene is so tired that she can barely take in the Gryffindor common room when the prefect shows them around. The beds in the dorm, which she shares with Dorcas and three other girls, feel like heaven. She almost falls asleep instantly - but then she remembers something.

“Dory.” 

No answer.

“Dory. Dory-”

“What is it?”

“What did you think of the teachers?”

Dorcas starts to laugh. It sounds a little shaky - maybe she is homesick already.

“Would you mind keeping it down?” One of the other girls - Mary Macdonald - pipes up from across the room. “I’m trying to sleep.”

The room goes silent again. Then:

“Dory.”

“Yes?”

“We forgot to wave goodnight to each other.”

  
  
  
  
  


————

  
  
  


  1. _November, 1974._



Marlene is a cat person, really. Honestly. It’s just that waking up to sharp claws dangerously close to your eyes almost every morning during the school year for the fourth year in a row takes its toll on you, you know?

After wrestling with Barty Mew Mew for an embarrassingly long time, Marlene finally manages to tear the cat away from her face. She immediately turns towards Dorcas’ bed, ready to say something funny about her terror of a pet-

It’s empty. A sinking feeling fills Marlene’s stomach.

“Where’s Dorcas?” She asks Lily, who’s braiding her hair over on her own bed. 

Lily shrugs. “I don’t know, I haven’t seen her today. Mary left just before you woke up, though.”

Marlene doesn’t stop frowning the whole time she’s getting dressed. She does toss some treats to Barty Mew Mew before she heads out of the dorm, though - he’s starting to warm up to her, she’s sure.

It’s unusually sunny for a November day in Scotland and the Great Hall is filled with excited murmurs. It’s a Hogsmeade weekend, after all.

“Oi, Potter!” She yells as she spots James and his merry little group at the Gryffindor table. “have you seen dorcas?” 

James opens his mouth, but Sirius Black beats him to it. “Yeah, she’s right over there,” he says smugly, pointing over Marlene’s shoulder. She turns around, and there’s Dorcas on her way out of the room.

Marlene forgets all about breakfast - she can buy something in Hogsmeade, after all - and runs as fast as she can after Dorcas.

“Dory!” Marlene calls out, panting as she finally catches up with Dorcas just as they reach the bridge. 

At the sound of her name, Dorcas turns around to face her. Her eyes are red-rimmed and her jaw is clenched tight. Marlene suddenly feels very out of her depth. So, since she has no better idea, she sticks her hand into her pocket and fishes up a pack of cigarettes.

"I nicked some from Remus," Marlene tries to smile, gesturing with the packet. "D'you want one?"

Dorcas starts to cry.

Marlene, startled, drops the cigarettes. In a heartbeat, she’s got her arms around Dorcas' neck ( she is already much taller than her friend is ). Without saying a word, Dorcas clings to her as Marlene’s nose gets buried in dark hair. They don’t care that others are walking past them - for a moment, it’s just the two of them.

Finally, Dorcas lets go. She rubs her eyes and nose as Marlene bends down to pick up the pack of cigarettes. A sort of wordless understanding has passed between them, and marlene extends her hand towards her. Dorcas takes it as they begin to walk towards Hogsmeade - together, this time.

Eventually, Dorcas swallows. Her hand tightens around Marlene’s. “Laurie left,” she says quietly. “I got an owl from Mum this morning. It was his birthday this week and as soon as he turned seventeen he just - left.”

Marlene doesn’t know how to respond. It’s not a shock, really, that Dorcas’ older brother would choose to leave the wizarding world behind. It has never done him any favours. Still, Marlene can only feel anger when she thinks about the way Dorcas is trembling right now. If it had been Rory or Lesley who’d left her behind like this, Marlene isn’t sure how she would react.

“He’s not worth your tears,” She says with a low voice, because that's the only thing she knows is true.

Dorcas just nods, putting on a brave face. Marlene squeezes her hand. “Come on, i know what will cheer you up! Madame Rosmerta makes the best pancakes in all of Scotland. I’m starving— what about you?"

  
  
  
  


————

  
  
  
  


  1. _June, 1978._



Riding the Hogwarts Express for the last time evokes a strange feeling in Marlene's chest. 

It feels almost like a dream, sitting there in a safe, familiar compartment with Dorcas. There's an uneasy tingling in her fingertips; once they step out of the train onto King's Cross Station, nothing will be like it was before. Marlene is well aware of this and she can tell from the faraway look in Dorcas' eyes that she knows this, too.

"The first thing I want us to do when we get back home," Dorcas says, eyes tracking the rolling fields that pass by their window, "Is to go swing in the tree by my house. Mum and Dad are in South Korea, so it's not like they can try to chase you away."

"As you wish," Marlene snorts softly, "But I'd like to stop by Diagon Alley first. Alice promised me that both you and I have a discount at Florean Fortescue's."

"It would be fun to work in an ice cream parlour, though," Dorcas replies thoughtfully as she leans back against her seat, feet propped up on the small table by the window. 

Marlene huffs. "Don't pretend that you're not meant to be Chief Healer at St Mungos. Dorcas Meadowes, the most accomplished healer of them all, that's you in a few years. I bet you'll invent a whole bunch of potions, too. You won't have time to work at Fortescue's."

Dorcas frowns in a mock-serious expression. "Well, what about you?"

_" I'll_ work in the ice cream parlour, of course," Marlene deadpans. 

"No, you won't," Dorcas says stubbornly, "Perhaps you won't be a Quidditch star, but you're meant for more grand things too. What about becoming editor in chief of the Prophet?"

Marlene makes a face. Dorcas continues, relentless:

"Minister of Magic, then! No? Wait a second, I know – you should be the next Defence against the Dark Arts teacher!" 

"I'd much rather spend the rest of my life stuck in the tree in your backyard."

The girls burst out in helpless laughter. Had she thought about it, Marlene would've noticed that the nervous energy in her body was gone.

They're on their way to become soldiers in a war much more terrifying than they can ever imagine. But for now, they can dream. For now, they can laugh. For now, they're just two teenagers ready to take on the challenges of the world.

  
  
  
  


————

  
  
  


  1. _August, 1980._



  
  


War is not a gentle thing. 

Marlene is well aware of that by now. She feels much older than twenty, with her bloody nose and a killer headache - she’s pretty sure she got hit by some kind of slashing curse, too, but she hasn’t had the time to check.

Despite this, the mission had been a success. This time, it had only been her, Dorcas and Peter, who had somehow managed to lose a tooth. They’d gotten the job done, though – one less death eater headquarter. You're welcome, wizarding world. 

It always feels strange to come home to Upper Flagley after being in the thick of battle for so long. It's too quiet, too safe, too untouched by violence. She feels dirty, coming home after missions like this.

Dorcas, quiet in that special way she gets after a particularly harrowing mission, sits down heavily on Marlene’s old but beloved couch.

"I'll put the kettle on," Marlene says as she shrugs off her coat. Dorcas’ body jerks as though she just woke up. "Rest for a second, okay?” Marlene adds quickly. “I can make tea by myself. It’s not _that_ hard.”

She can hear Dorcas coo quietly over Barty Mew Mew in the living room. Marlene has no idea how that cat always finds a way to sneak inside her cottage, but she's glad Dorcas has him as silent company at times like this.

She looks out of her kitchen window as the water boils. The sky is slowly turning pink. The sun is rising. A new day is dawning.

“Happy twentieth birthday,” Marlene says, unable to stop a wide grin as she carries the tray with their teacups over to Dorcas. "I would've baked you a cake, but I know you'll be happier without it."

They drink their tea in silence for a while, shoulders brushing. Barty Mew Mew, curled up next to Dorcas, seems content with only glaring scaldingly at Marlene for now. 

"Your nose is still bleeding," Dorcas remarks, breaking the thick yet comfortable silence. Marlene's hand immediately flies to her nostrils – it comes away red, and she swears.

"Here, let me," Dorcas says gently. " _Episkey."_

"You're a lifesaver," Marlene sniffles, even though her nose still stings a little. Dorcas laughs. "I think this calls for celebration, though."

"My birthday or your nose?"

"Both, of course," Marlene replies, standing up. 

She extends a hand to Dorcas, who takes it with a smile. Barty Mew Mew protests, claws tearing into the fabric of the sofa. Dorcas tuts at him before flicking her wrist towards the turntable, which begins to play with a soft _click._

They dance slowly at first, swaying as they shift their weights from one side to another. Suddenly, Dorcas manages to spin Marlene around despite being so much shorter. A startled giggle escapes Marlene's lips. Just like that, it's as though something has lifted from both of their shoulders. They pause for a moment, looking into each other's eyes, before starting to laugh loud enough to wake up the whole village.

Somehow, they end up in the garden, still dancing as the music filters out from an open window.

“You know what, Dory?" Marlene closes her eyes, tilting her head towards the sky, basking in the summer morning sunlight. “I think we’ll be alright, after all.”

The sun makes her feel invincible - or perhaps it’s simply because Dorcas is smiling beside her.

  
  
  


————

  
  
  


  1. _July, 1981._



  
  
  
  


"It'll only be for a week or so, tops," Dorcas says, voice intentionally nonchalant as she stuffs things into her purse. "Besides, i'll just be there as a healer, in case Frank or Amelia get hurt."

Marlene, leaning against the door frame, hums noncommittally in response. It's been long – years, perhaps – since they went on missions for the Order without each other. Over the course of the war, they've become just as much a package deal as James and Sirius or the Prewetts, God rest their souls.

"Don't forget to take care of Barty Mew Mew for me," Dorcas continues, back turned to Marlene as she searches her drawers. "You know how cranky he gets when i'm away."

Marlene snorts. "How could i ever forget to feed my living and breathing alarm clock? Don't worry, Dory. I'll even read your letters aloud to him, if he can refrain from his attempts to murder me."

Dorcas, doing nothing to deny the accusation, scratches said cat's head. "I'm done, now. Do you want to follow me outside?"

  
  


The door closes behind them with a thud. It is warm outside but the street is empty, only the lamplights and the stars lighting up the dark.

All of a sudden, Marlene's heart is gripped by an intense feeling of loss. She can't explain why but it feels very important for Marlene to memorize the way Dorcas' dark hair is pulled into a ponytail, every single eyelash, the way her dimples deepen as she waves to Barty Mew Mew, who is watching them from her kitchen window.

"Well, I better be off." Dorcas turns to her, purse in hand. She opens her arms and Marlene embraces her gratefully, squeezing her eyes shut for a second.

"Don't forget to write when you get the chance," Marlene says quietly, inhaling the smell of Dorcas' flowery shampoo.

"Of course not, silly," Dorcas replies as they pull away. Marlene pretends not to ignore the way her eyes burn. "See you in a week, alright?"

Then, Dorcas is gone with a sharp _crack_ before Marlene can reply. 

Maybe that's a good thing. She's never liked goodbyes.

  
  
  


————

  
  


_\+ 1._

  
  


There’s not much left, in the last days of the war. 

Dorcas’ old owl arrives at Marlene’s little cottage with her first letter just as the Order arrives at the scene. The first funeral reception will be held at the old McKinnon house: Marlene's home will be too damaged, too tainted by death to be appropriate. 

The second one will be held down the street. Dorcas’ parents, who spent the war in South Korea, reunite with their son at their daughter's funeral.

I would love to tell you what happens to the photo albums stacked in Marlene’s living room, filled with pictures detailing the lives of not one, but two young women. Maybe Laurence Meadowes takes care of them, or maybe Remus Lupin or Alastor Moody or Albus Dumbledore. Perhaps some of those photos end up in the album given to Harry Potter at the end of his first school year. We’ll never know.

I can tell you this, though: the swing in the tree will be abandoned to rot, eventually falling apart, now that there aren't any little girls left to use it. 

  
  


fin. 

**Author's Note:**

> This one-shot has been in the works since early December last year & it is entirely my dear friend Seph's fault because they mentioned that Seven by Taylor Swift reminded them of Dorcas and Marlene and I said OH YEAH? watch me write a whole one-shot based on it. This my attempt at writing something that is more lighthearted ( or just something Marlene-related that is not filled to the brim with existential dread ). Enjoy!
> 
> This version of Dorcas was heavily based on Seph's (@liionheartd on instagram) portrayal and our headcanons! This work, as well as my previous ones, contain a lot of references to their portrayal of Dorcas and their writing.
> 
> If you want to cry with me over Marlene McKinnon, you can always find me on instagram (@mindmgic) or on tumblr (sibylvane).


End file.
